“Don’t worry,” he interrupted, “it’s actually just one.” With that, he leaned suddenly forward, gazing intently into my eyes. “If this is going to work, if this is going to be believable...then you have to let me treat you like I’d treat any of my other girlfriends.”
A sudden shiver swept through me, as a whole host of other implications to this little scheme fell suddenly into place. We were trying to stage an entire relationship, after all. That meant a little more than just posing in front of the cameras...
“Okay,” I began uncertainly, “I can...I can do that.”
Nick cocked his head to the side, eyes twinkling at me appraisingly.
“That means letting someone else take care of you, for once. That means letting yourself get pampered and fussed over. Accepting gifts bigger than a bag.”
“A purse,” I corrected automatically, but his look made me fall silent.
“I have a reputation of spoiling my women, Abby.” A smile was lurking just below the surface, but he kept up an admirable poker face. “A reputation that must be maintained.”
My eyes danced with a sudden Dior flashback, but I kept a careful poker face myself.
“Fair enough. But don’t ever refer to me again as one of your women,” I quoted dryly. “I didn’t sign up for a haram—got it?”
A sudden grin flashed across his face, but he pursed his lips and nodded.
“Got it.”
“On that note,” I continued suddenly, “that also means that you and Anya have to pause your...Pilates for a while.”
He mock saluted.
“No more Pilates.”
I eyed his mischievous face warily, and decided to clarify for my own peace of mind.
“Nick, you know that by Pilates, I mean—”
“—you mean fucking,” he laughed, “yeah, I got it. No more Anya.”
I nodded, satisfied. But just as he went to stand up, another thought flashed through my head. One that was so obvious and serious, I felt as though both of us had been dancing around it on purpose. Compartmentalizing it away, because we didn’t know how to deal with it ourselves.
“Nick,” I said softly, reaching for his sleeve to stop him, “about...all the other stuff.”
He froze in his tracks, and looked down at me without a trace of humor. His face was nothing but sincere. “I’ll never cross any line you don’t want me to. You have my word.”
I nodded quickly and released his arm, but found myself in no way reassured.
Who were we kidding? This entire thing was crossing a line. A line that we’d worked hard to create, even under the most extreme circumstances, for the last two years. How could we possibly go back to the way things were after this? After what we’d have to do?
It wasn’t just pictures and shopping sprees. A relationship implied a physical component as well. Those were the pictures that sold. How was that possibly going to work? How could we possibly go back to working with each other after that? How could we even be friends?
“Hey.” He knelt down suddenly in front of me, as if I’d been saying all of my worries out loud. For a moment, he just stared at me. Then he swept back a lock of my hair with a gentle smile. “You know that whatever happens...it’s just you and me. Nothing can change that.”
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to so badly.
It’s just...hadn’t things changed already?
The necklace, the bar in New York, the moment in my apartment. We’d seen each other almost every single day for the last two years, and not once had anything like that ever happened before. And now tonight? The moment at the nightclub?
If I closed my eyes and concentrated, I could still feel his lips on my skin. The heated flush they left as they kissed my forehead, then my cheek. Then the other. I could still see the look on his face as he looked down at my mouth. All that unbridled passion and adventure wrapped up in a single glance.
A single moment before he closed his eyes and leaned down to kiss me.
No. It was not just ‘you and me’ anymore. Things had already changed. Spun off the rails so fast, I wasn’t sure if we could ever catch them.